


mourning wood

by orphan_account



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Background Character Death, Bad Pick-Up Lines, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Kissing, M/M, Mentions of Death, Mild Language, Neck Kissing, Post-Time Skip, Sexual Tension, Strangers, these tags are all over the place help, time skip, voyeurism?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-18 19:02:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29862654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Hanamaki goes to the local funeral home to plan a funeral service for his recently deceased grandma.He was not been expecting the funeral home employee to be so attractive.
Relationships: Hanamaki Takahiro/Matsukawa Issei
Kudos: 23





	mourning wood

**Author's Note:**

> warning!! because this fic takes place in a funeral parlor, there are multiple mentions of death, dying, burials, etc. so if that makes you uncomfortable I would not recommend reading this fic!!

The morning was gloomy and dull, the sun hiding behind ominous clouds that looked like they could pour rain any moment, leaving the world dark and cold. 

A very fitting atmosphere, Hanamaki figured, considering his grandma had just died yesterday. In fact, he was in charge of planning the funeral, deciding the service and wake locations, who would be invited, and other decisions about the body. The two of them had always been close, the death of his parents bringing the two of them together. She had been like a mother to him. And now she was dead (stupid Grandma, slipping on a rug and cracking your skull open? How lame). Anyhow, today was the day he was scheduled to go to the funeral home to plan all of this. 

He arrived just before noon and stood in front of the building, mentally preparing himself. It was a simple two-story structure with white wooden walls, pillars along the perimeter, and big frosted windows. _Deep breath_ , he told himself before walking forward and opening the big wooden doors. 

The home was fairly simple, decorated with antique sofas, small coffee tables, and random paintings hung on the wall. It gave off a depressing vibe, which made sense; it was where countless dead people had been held. 

He had been too absorbed in looking around the room, Hanamaki didn’t even notice the funeral home employee approach him. 

“Hello there, how may I help you?” 

The voice made him jump, bringing him back to reality. Standing in front of him was a man, probably in his mid-twenties. A _very_ attractive man. Scratch that, the _most_ attractive man Hanamaki had ever laid eyes upon. Like _damn_. 

He gulped. “Uh, yeah. I’m here for my Grandma. She just passed away.” He spoke, trying his absolute best to keep his voice steady. 

The funeral home employee nodded. “I see, follow me this way.” He said simply, taking off down one of the hallways of the funeral home. Hanamaki didn’t move though, having been distracted looking at the man’s dark curly hair, imagining how it would feel to run his hands through the voluminous locks. When the employee noticed he wasn’t following him, he moved to stand in front of Hanamaki. “Are you coming?” He asked while waving a hand in front of Hanamaki’s face. It successfully interrupted his train of thought and the man took off again, this time with Hanamaki following close behind. 

He led Hanamaki to an office at the end of the hallway. A desk was placed in the center of the room with two chairs in front of it, probably for clients to sit in. The only other furniture present was a black leather couch along the wall and a small drawer placed next to it. The employee’s strong, tanned hand gestured for him to sit in one of the chairs in front of the desk, so he did. The employee moved to sit as well, but rather than taking his seat behind the desk, he sat in the chair right next to Hanamaki, so close Hanamkai could feel the heat radiating off his thigh onto his own. 

“I’m sorry about your loss,” the man offered. He reached over to squeeze Hanamaki’s hand reassuringly, but it had the opposite effect. He jumped in his seat, nerves shot, as his calloused, yet somehow incredibly soft, hand landed on top of his own. Hanamaki wondered if he used to play a sport, that would explain why his hands felt so nice and smooth and strong.

“Volleyball,” the funeral home employee responded, smirking. Oh crap, he said that out loud. Hanamaki blushed furiously, mortification settling in. “Anyways, let’s talk details.” He leaned forward to grab a folder off of his desk, brushing shoulders with Hanamaki as he did so. He suppressed a shiver, the spot he had grazed now feeling cold and empty. He took a glance at the man’s shoulders, not having paid much attention to them beforehand, and _wow_. The planes of strong, sturdy muscle could be seen even from under his navy button-down. _No. Stop it._ He scolded himself. His grandmother had just died, now was not the time to be getting worked up over an attractive funeral home worker.

“Have you thought about what you would like to do for the service? Any locations in mind?” The worker asked, leaning forward to hand Hanamaki a few papers. As he accepted them, Their hands brushed each other for just a moment. _That’s it. I’m a goner. See you soon Grandma, this fine-ass man is going to kill me any minute now._

Hanamaki set the papers down on his lap and wiped his sweaty palms on his pants. _Calm down. He is just a person, the same as me._ “I’m not too sure, I’ve never had to plan a funeral before.”

“That’s alright,” the man smiled. “That's what I’m here for.” He pulled out a paper and handed it to Hanamaki. “You can choose to hold the service here, in the funeral parlor, or another location. People often pick churches, cemeteries, or their own homes. It is your decision.” He explained, pointing to different locations on the paper. 

Hanamaki weighed his options. A church sounded nice, and he was sure his grandma would appreciate that decision. But then again… 

“I think I will hold the service here. My grandma was never a fan of the church,” Hanamaki lied through his teeth. It was actually the opposite, his grandma was an active churchgoer when she was, well, not dead. But she would understand, right? The funeral parlor had this gorgeous employee. What did the church have? That’s right, nothing. So the choice was obvious. He knew it was awful, but it’s not like his grandma could complain. 

The employee nodded. “Excellent choice. We will work out specific dates and times later. For now though, let’s discuss whether you would like to do a burial, cremation, or any other alternatives.” 

Hanamaki paused. There were other options besides burying and cremation? The man must have sensed his confusion because he was speaking again. “There is body donation, mushroom burial suits, human composting, eternal reefs, cryonics, space burial, burial pods, mummification,” the employee listed off.

Hanamaki stopped him short. “Wait a minute,” he held up a hand, trying his best not to laugh. “You’re telling me I can turn my grandma into a mummy? Or fling her into space? What even is a burial pod? Or a mushroom burial suit?” 

The worker grinned, having sensed Hanamaki’s amusement. “Yes. Yes. You get put into a bag that’s buried under a tree. And it’s a cotton suit with mushroom spores that decompose you after being buried. Cool right?” 

“I would seriously consider the mummification, but she would haunt me from the afterlife if I ever did that to her.” Hanamaki joked. He suddenly felt a bang of sadness in his chest. He didn’t process it yet, the fact that his grandma was, believe it or not, dead. It just didn’t feel real. But standing there, in the middle of a funeral parlor, talking about the different ways to send her off, it was just too much. 

The funeral home worker must have noticed his change in attitude because he wasn’t grinning anymore. “Hey, are you alright?” He put a comforting hand on Hanamaki’s shoulder, and if he did that in any other moment, Hanamaki might have combusted on the spot. But he couldn’t even properly enjoy it now. 

“Yeah, I just realized she's gone. Like permanently.” He explained, leaning into the man’s touch as he rubbed small circles into his shoulder with his thumb. 

The man gave him a sympathetic smile. “Listen, I’m here for you. If you need to talk to someone, or just don't want to be alone.”

“Thanks,” Hanamaki told him because he appreciated the gesture. But he wasn't about to dump all his problems on this beautiful stranger. “I just need a distraction. If not I might make a few twisted jokes later.” He half-joked (in his defense, humor was a very effective coping mechanism, thank you very much).

“A distraction you say?” The worker asked after a few moments of silence. He was looking at the wall over Hanamaki’s shoulder, deep in concentration. 

Hanamaki turned to see what he was staring at, but there was nothing. “Uh, yeah. Something to take my mind off the whole dead grandma thing, you know?”

Matsukawa was silent again. Then suddenly, he shuffled in his seat, moving closer to Hanamaki. Now their thighs were touching, pressed flush together. Hanamaki’s breath caught in his throat. 

“Can I try something?” Matsukawa asked finally, looking at Hanamaki for permission. 

_Yes, you gorgeous stranger, do whatever you want. I would throw myself from the top of the roof for you. I would hop into a coffin right now,_ he wanted to say, because honestly, who in their right mind would turn down this man, the incredibly good looking and handsome man. 

“How do I know if I can trust you? I don't even know your name.” he inquired. Evidently, Hanamaki wasn't in his right mind. 

“Matsukawa. Issei Matsukawa.”

 _Issei Matsukawa_. Sheesh, even his name was hot. What was this cruel, unfair world he was forced to live in? Why didn’t his name sound that good? This was favoritism. Harsh, pure, unadulterated favoritism. He didn’t believe in God, but if he (she? they? it? who knows?) was real, then he undoubtedly had his favorites.

“Okay then, Matsukawa. Go ahead.” He replied, anxious to see what the funeral home employee had in store for him. Maybe he had seen too many movies or was reading into the situation too much, but it sounded like Matsukawa was about to propose a distraction of the sexual sort. But that would be too good to be true. This man wouldn’t do anything like that when Hanamaki was grieving his grandma and only there to plan a funeral (not that he wouldn’t mind getting a little sidetracked (or a lot sidetracked)). 

The worker stood up and moved to the door. “Follow me. And tell me to stop whenever.” 

Yep, this was definitely going in the direction Hanamaki thought it was. 

He stood up and followed Matsukawa out the door and down the hallway. They eventually ended up in what Hanamaki assumed was the funeral parlor. Rows of glossy wooden benches covered the floor. Vases filled with flowers were scattered throughout the room, varying in color. 

Before Hanamaki could take in more of the room around him, he was pushed against the wall and the air was knocked out of his lungs. A hand cradled the back of his head, another was placed firmly on the wall next to his head. _Wow, that’s hot_ , he thought, glancing up at Matsukawa as he leaned over him, lips pulled up into a smirk.

Hanamaki had approximately two seconds to catch his breath before Matsukawa swooped down and claimed his lips. He stood there, frozen against the wall. Was this seriously happening? His brain wasn’t playing games on him, right? That would be too cruel. Five seconds later, when Matsukawa hadn’t pulled back and Hanamaki could still feel his chapped but warm lips against his own, he realized this was actually happening. And so he closed his eyes and kissed back as if his life depended on it, tilting his head to the side for a better angle. 

It wasn’t a soft, slow kiss by any means. It was filled with passion, need, _want_. His hands shot up from their place at his side and found themselves carding through Matsukawa’s thick, soft curls. He ran them through the hair at the top of his head down to the nape, tugging at the roots ever so slightly. Meanwhile, the hand that Matsukawa had previously been using to cradle his head found itself slithering down until it rested on his neck, just under his jaw. He titled his head more, the feeling of their noses brushing against each other intoxicating.

And despite the intensity of the kiss, Hanamaki could still appreciate the dizzying texture of Matsukawa’s lips. The warmth they released onto his own. The way they would part ever so slightly to suck on Hanamaki’s bottom lip before slipping his tongue in. 

His head spun, not only from the lack of oxygen but from their proximity. Hanamaki swore Matsukawa was laced with coke somehow; addicted to pressing his lips to his own, the soft tickle of his breath on his upper lip, the warmth of his body flush against his. Matsukawa was a drug and Hanamaki was hooked, utterly and hopelessly addicted. 

The hand that Matsukawa had resting against the wall was suddenly on his shoulder, smoothing circles over the area before dipping under Hanamaki’s shirt, making contact with his bare skin. Damn, that was smooth. Not wanting to be one-upped, Hanamaki leaned back, parting their lips with a soft smack, before dipping down to assail the employee’s neck. He went straight for the side of Matsukawa’s neck where his pulse point was located, sucking on the delicate skin. 

Matsukawa’s breath hitched and he leaned his head back, giving Hanamaki easier access to his neck. Taking that as an invitation, Hanamaki continued his conquest. Butterflies dancing in his stomach, he littered scattered kisses and small pecks across the plane of Matsukawa’s neck. Before too long, his chin was tilted up, held between Matsukawa’s thumb and index finger, and he was pulled into another searing kiss. 

Immediately launching himself into the kiss, he slid his tongue along the seam of Matsukawa’s lips, coaxing them to part open. Stubbornly, Matsukawa kept them shut. He then took the man's bottom lip between his teeth and tugged slightly, revealing in the soft moan that escaped Matsukawas lips. He took that moment to dive his tongue into his mouth, exploring every inch of his warm cavern. Strong hands made their way down Hanamaki’s side and before he knew it, fingers were tugging on his belt loops, pulling him flush against Matsukawa. 

The contact left Hanamaki shivering, a soft whimper escaping his lips. Matsukawa sucked the noise right up and pulled on his belt loops even tighter. Heat pooled in his stomach as their hips slid together. Unable to concentrate on the kiss, Hanamaki parted from Matsukawa's lips and placed his chin on the taller man's shoulders, focusing his attention on the rhythm of their hips. His eyes mindlessly wandered the room, pleasure overtaking his body, from head to toe. 

And that’s when he saw it. 

“Is that a fucking body?” 

On the other side of the room laid a casket. An open casket. With a person inside. A fucking dead person. 

Matsukawa paused his movements. He glanced over his shoulder to see what Hanamaki had been looking at. He shrugged absentmindedly at the casket before turning back to Hanamaki. “Does it matter? He won’t tell anyone.” 

As awful as it was, Hanamaki snorted out a laugh. “Taking me to the one room with a dead person. I’m flattered.” He said, looping his arms around Matsukawa’s neck. 

Matsukawa bit his lip, grinning. “I just realized, is this considered voyeurism?”

Hanamaki grinned back. “Maybe. He is a person, after all. Even if he is dead.” 

“Sorry, I forgot he was still here. But in my defense, this room has the most comfortable seats. ” He explained while pulling Hanamaki close to him once again. He reveled in the heat Matsukawa’s body gave off and smiled. 

“Then why are we standing?” This made Matsukawa chuckle, and before Hanamaki knew it, he was being pulled away from the wall and towards the benches of the parlor. Matsukawa sat down first, then pulled Hanamaki down into his lap, knees straddling his thighs. His toned, muscular thighs. _Maybe if I ask nicely, he’ll choke me with those bad boys later..._

A hand made contact with his chest and before he knew it, Hanamaki’s shirt was being undone. Matsukawa took his time, tanned fingers working each button out of its hole until his entire shirt was hanging open. The cold air hit his chest and Hanamaki shivered, the chill contrasting perfectly with the heat building up inside him. 

Matsukawa ran his hands all over the slopes and planes of Hanamakis chest and abdomen, each touch sending sparks throughout his body. When fingers delicately passed over his nipples, Hanamaki’s back involuntarily arched, chasing the touch. 

“Sensitive, are we?” Matsukawa purred, now purposefully giving attention to the sensitive buds, rubbing circles into them and squeezing. It made Hanamaki groan, pleasure overcoming him. It was getting to be too much. Matsukawa hadn’t even touched his dick yet, but Hanamaki knew he was close. 

“Talk dirty to me,” he muttered, hands finding their way back into Matsukawa’s curls tugging on them as he spoke. “I’m close.” 

Matsukawa moaned at his words. His hands stopped their abuse on his nipples, moving down his stomach and resting on his navel. Hanamaki’s abs clenched at the touch. “Are you a coffin?” Matsukawa leaned to Hanamaki’s ear and asked in a husky voice. “Because I really wish I was inside of you.” He whispered, nipping his earlobe, and the vibrations of his voice sent a chill down Hanamaki’s spine. A pickup line? How did he know those were one of his biggest turn-ons? He moaned wantonly, his grip on Matsukwa’s hair tightening. 

One more. One more pick-up line and he was a goner. He could feel his gut coiling. He just wanted release. To let go of the fire building up inside of him. To get pushed over the edge. 

But Hanamaki never gets what he wants. Because the universe hates him. 

“Matsukawa? I’m here to fix the lights in the parlor…” 

They froze. Hanamaki turned towards the door the same time a man walked in. The man's eyes shot out of their sockets, looking between Hanamaki and Matsukawa. 

They all stayed there, looking at each other in silence until the man finally spoke. “God Matsukawa, there’s a body in here! Have you no tact?” 

Matsukawa groaned. “I don’t want to hear it, Kindaichi. You asked out a girl in a McDonald's parking lot. You can’t talk about tact.” Matsukawa shot back, sighing exasperatedly. 

“I was fifteen!” Kindaichi yelled before turning around. “Whatever, I am not fixing the lights today. Call me when you’re not about to fuck in front of a dead person.” And with that, he stomped out of the room. 

Hanamaki stared at the door, trying to make sense of what just happened. Then he let out a cackle, the ridiculousness of the situation sinking in. Matsukawa gave him a sheepish grin in response. “My bad, forgot he was coming. My usual electrician is out of town, so I asked Kindaichi to fix the lights.”

“It’s alright,” Hanamaki reassured him, hopping off Matsukawa’s lap. “Get him back here, he can work on the lights, we have business to take care of. Funeral details and the like.”

He was making his way out of the parlor when Matsukawa spoke. “Was that enough of a distraction for you?”

Hanamaki smirked. “Not sure. I think we might need to try again, just to be sure.”

“Of course,” Matsukawa winked. 

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be purely crack. Then I kinda blacked out for two hours and boom, this was just sitting on my laptop. Is this just me projecting onto Hanamaki and thirsting for time-skip Matsukawa? Most definitely. 
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading!!


End file.
